Rigby's Story
by Author-of-stuff
Summary: Rigby's story is light and dark; on the brighter side, he has a best friend, a family that loves him, and he's really good at running, Rock Paper Scissors, pranking, and has a good sense of humor; on the darker side, he is constantly picked on, he stops growing when he's about 11, and everyone seems to like his little brother Don better than him.


**Chapter 1: School Sux!**

Rigby looked at the alarm clock as it beeped and sighed. It was the first day of third grade. He hated school (but don't most kids?). He punched the alarm clock and pulled the covers up over his head. But not even two minutes later, his little brother Don was jumping on his bed saying, "Get up! Get up! We're going to school today!" Rigby sat up and looked at him quizzically. How could any kid get this excited about school? Oh well. At least he could see Mordecai again. He hadn't seen him all summer since his family went down to California. He got up and groggily went downstairs for breakfast.

As he walked to the bus stop with Don, he saw Mordecai waiting there with his handheld gaming device. He ran up ahead. "Hey Mordecai! What's up?" Mordecai looked up from his game and said "Hey dude! How was summer?" "Pretty cool," he replied. "I played football, went to the beach, normal summer stuff. Oh, and dad and I made a Matchbox bomb!" "EPIC!" Mordecai said. "Wanna come to my house after school and light some sawdust on fire? I saw some guy do it on TV, and there was a HUGE fireball!"

"Yeah I do!"

Then they high-fived and said "OOOOOOOOOH!" in unison. Just then the slightly smaller raccoon comes running up. "What are you guys talking about?" "Oh, hi Don," said Mordecai, ruffling his fur. "How are you?"

"I'm good," he said. "So, what were you guys talking about?" "Nothing," said Rigby. "You're too young to join us for this." "Aw." Don said. "C'mon Rigby," said Mordecai. "He'll be fine if he keeps he distance." "Ugh. Fine." Rigby said. He didn't feel like arguing with his best friend before the day even began. "Oh look, the bus," he said, hoping to change the subject.

As they got on the bus, Rigby saw lots of new kids, plus the kids from last year. There was Brianna, the class hottie (grey wolf with brown hair and brown eyes). There was Nick, who was a pretty good athlete (a brown squirrel with black hair and blue eyes). And then there was Bryce and Andrew, who were a couple of jerks (Andrew was a brownish-orange fox with blonde hair; Bryce was the same color, but with light brown hair). As Rigby walked by, Bryce said, "Hey, Crookedjaw!*"

***No, doesn't have anything to do with Warriors. This takes place in 1994, remember?**

"Yeah, hey Crookedjaw!" Andrew repeated. This was referring to an incident where Rigby was doing something or other and ran into a tree, leaving him with a crooked jaw to about two months. Rigby replied with his signature "STOP TALKING!" and everybody laughed. Rigby cringed; this was not a great start to the school year. He sat down and sighed. "Don't let him get to you, man," said Mordecai. "They're just dirt bags." Rigby was about to thank Mordecai for his encouragement, but then Don did the WORST possible thing; he turned around, stuck his nose right in Andrew's face, and said "Yeah Andrew, your just dirt bags!" That did it. Andrew snapped. Rigby knew that even he wouldn't hit a six-year-old, but after what happened next, he almost wished he would've. "YOU. ME. FIGHT. LUNCH RECESS. FRIDAY!" Rigby gulped. "W-why Friday?" he stammered. It was Bryce who answered. "So we have time to gather an audience to see you get pummeled! And maybe we'll even see _The Return of Crookedjaw: fist edition._" And with that, they both sat back down, snickering. Rigby groaned and glared at his little brother. "Gee, thanks a lot," he said. Don looked scared, confused, and frightened. "Sorry," he squeaked.

The school day seemed like it would never end. Rigby hated it. He didn't get his math, pretty much slept through history, and got about three or four words wrong on the spelling test (at least). The only class he was really good at was creative writing, where he was free to use his imagination and write anything he wanted (although he usually wrote stories/comics about his dumb teachers). To make matters worse, Mordecai wasn't even in the same class as him; Rigby was stuck in 3rd grade A, while Mordecai was in 3rd grade B. Rigby could guess why; he had once overheard Mordecai's mom say he was a bad influence on Mordecai, and he figured she had made sure he was in a different class this year. The only time he got to talk to Mordecai was at lunch and during recess. At lunch, Rigby saw him waiting for him at a table "Hey dude," Rigby said as he sat down. "How's school for you so far?"

"Art is pretty much the only thing I really like, but I think I'm doing pretty well," replied Mordecai. "You?"

"It's BOOORRING!" Rigby said, stretching out the word. "I hate school!"

"Dude, everyone hates school. It's a fact of life."


End file.
